


his spine (a sweat-forged gulf)

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Implied/Referenced Past Child Sexual Abuse, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Post-Trauma Reactions, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: He had no real interest in placing himself at someone else's mercy. But he'd willingly relied on Damen before.





	his spine (a sweat-forged gulf)

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially being written a few weeks back for my blindfold and bondage squares for Kink Bingo, but it felt like a cheat fill because the themes and story ended up being a little too similar to one or two other fics I've written. Still, I figured I might as well finish it off and post it regardless, just in case anyone wants to read it.

Laurent hadn't missed Damen's sharply indrawn breath when he'd watched the Vaskians tie a blindfold over Laurent's eyes months ago. And nor did Laurent fail to notice how Damen tended to unthinkingly pin Laurent's wrists against the mattress (or the wall, or the Council table, or the armrests of Laurent's throne that one time) while he pressed inside Laurent. Laurent hadn't particularly wanted to acknowledge the trend at first. Even if though it was Damen of all people restraining him, with Laurent knowing he would let go in an instant if asked, the mere concept of letting someone else take charge of Laurent made Laurent uncomfortable, to say the least. 

He had no real interest in placing himself at someone else's mercy. Not when years of facing off against his uncle and constantly trying to redirect the narrative and support towards his favour at court had left him with this overwhelming desire to be completely in control of everything for every second of every day. He'd been actively railing against or at best stoically bearing all efforts to take that control from him for so long now that it was an ingrained habit. A pressing need. 

But he'd willingly relied on Damen before. Surely he could manage to do so this way as well, if it was what Damen wanted. If Laurent could willingly kneel for him when Damen asked despite all the memories that came along with going to his knees, then he should be able to do almost anything.

It took Damen a while to realise what Laurent was offering, but then only a few seconds to jump at the chance once he understood. Laurent had thought he would have to do more to convince him. He wasn't sure how to feel about the unexpected ease of it. He wilfully decided to not look any further into it than taking it as a sign that Damen trusted Laurent to know his own limits, and that Damen understood how much Laurent trusted Damen not to wilfully overstep them in turn. That reciprocation was the only way this could work. Laurent couldn't imagine even considering putting himself in this position otherwise.

"Don't go easy on me, and don't stop unless I specifically say to," was the only (and hopefully last) instruction Laurent gave for the night as he finished shrugging off the last of his clothing. The point, after all, was that Laurent wasn't going to be the one making the decisions unless it became absolutely necessary.

It wasn't a huge surprise when Damen's first move was to loop a slip of silk several times around Laurent's head, forming a blindfold over his eyes. It was, however, disconcerting. Laurent felt a frisson of unease, though he said nothing. They would keep going unless he said 'stop', he'd told Damen, and he was nowhere near that point yet. He didn't want this to end even before it began.

It went fine for a while. Laurent enjoyed the soft glide of Damen's barely-there touches over the sensitive parts of his body, and trying to predict were Damen's fingers and then his mouth would travel next kept Laurent's racing mind well-occupied. Laurent didn't even have any issues with Damen pressing Laurent's back into the mattress, and he certainly couldn't complain about Damen bracing his knee between Laurent's legs in a way that allowed Laurent to grind himself against Damen's lower thigh. 

But eventually Damen not only grasped Laurent's wrists the way he so seemed to enjoy during sex, but also used that grip to brace himself while he shifted his body so that his blanket of thick muscles covered Laurent. All Laurent could perceive at that moment was the overwhelming feeling of being trapped in place. His rebellious mind of course chose that moment to transform the unseen body looming over him from lover (friend, partner, equal, more, so much more) into something darker. Laurent's gasps turned borderline panicked. An instinct he'd never acted upon at the time, but which was rising fresh in his mind now that he was finally old enough and strong enough made Laurent kick out wildly and try to throw this sudden threat clear of himself. But the weight on top of him was too much and felt immovable. He was so much bigger than Laurent, just as he had been back then.

"Laurent. _Laurent_."

Damen accepted the battering of Laurent's knees and heels against his own legs without complaint. It was that as much as his familiar voice calling Laurent's name that brought some level of sanity back to Laurent's mind. This was obviously no shadowy figure bearing down on him in the night when he was usually too drunk and too miserable to even think of saying no, for he wouldn't have been so easily forgiven for 'acting out' then. Instead, this was _Damen_ , the furthest thing possible from _that_.

Laurent felt foolish for letting his imagination run away with him. He _knew_ who was in bed with him. He should be able to remember that, and to take it in stride, without needing a visual to keep him on track. It was a weakness that he really should have overcome.

"Are you saying stop?" Damen asked gently, a much-needed reminder that Laurent _could_ do so. He didn't let go of Laurent prematurely, though, waiting on the word. Damen's thumb tenderly circled over the soft skin just above the continuing vice of Damen's grip on him.

Laurent sucked in as much oxygen as his lungs could fit, then let it out slowly. A few more iterations of that were enough to slow his heartbeat down to something a little less than absolutely frantic. He couldn't seem to find his tongue yet, but he did manage to shake his head to let Damen know that he should continue. When Damen said his name again, this time less insistent and more beseeching, Laurent's muscles were able to uncoil just slightly, as if the subconscious need to fight and to regain control was being temporarily drained from him like venom.

Damen took his chance to let one of Laurent's arms go, freeing up his own hand as well in the process. He didn't, however, release Laurent's other wrist or otherwise move away from Laurent at all, probably worried that Laurent would see it as a rejection or as Damen not being willing to believe him when Laurent indicated that he didn't need to stop. Laurent might not have been able to see what Damen was doing, but he felt Damen shifting slightly ( _oh_ did he feel it, when it made Damen's lower thigh rub up against the underside of Laurent's still-somehow-hard cock). Laurent then registered the teasing feeling of the material trailing over Laurent's wrist that Damen still had captured in his hand. It wasn't silk this time, like the blindfold, but soft cotton. Damen's discarded chiton, most likely. 

Laurent was provided with a long moment to consider this prospect and say no if he chose to. Instead, with not-inconsiderable effort, Laurent drew his now-free wrist up to join the other, waiting expectantly. 

Laurent could feel (but hoped Damen couldn't) the slight shake throughout his half-tensed muscles as the cotton was wound around both wrists and tied in place. Even after all the time spent attending to Laurent's laces, Damen still was hardly a master with knots, but he was capable of tying it tightly enough, it seemed, that Laurent's hands wouldn't easily shift free, even when he tugged at the material experimentally to try. So if Laurent wanted out, he was going to have to ask Damen to free him rather than dealing with it himself. 

Not that it should really matter either way. Even if the tie had been loose and ineffectual and more symbolic than anything, Damen would have been trusting Laurent to stay caught, and so Laurent would have done his best and then some not to disappoint him.

Damen's hands fell away from touching Laurent entirely so that he could, judging by the tugging at the wrist binding, secure the other end of the length of cotton to something at the head of the bed, suspending Laurent's arms more tightly over his head. Laurent couldn't claim it was a comfortable position for his shoulders, but he doubted he'd be like this for long enough for it to become truly uncomfortable, one way or the other.

A quick kiss was brushed against Laurent's shoulder, clearly meant as a reward. The ends of Damen's curls brushed over Laurent's cheek as well, each touch like a tiny fleeting kiss of its own. 

Laurent hoped that Damen understood that for all that it might appear to a casual observer like it was less free (and certainly less practised), this was in reality a fuller submission than anything Damen had ever experienced during those times with his docile slaves that Laurent knew Damen still looked back upon fondly. For it was done by choice, and was hard-won, the way submission should be, in Laurent's opinion. Laurent hoped that Damen appreciated the intention of it even if the execution might leave something to be desired.

He certainly seemed excited enough over it, wasting little time preparing Laurent. Usually Laurent preferred a slower build-up, but tonight was more about what Damen preferred. And Laurent wasn't entirely sure he wanted to draw this out too much regardless when that would only offer more time for him to end up losing himself too much and panicking once again. 

So the first push of Damen's cock inside him was welcome, even though Laurent hadn't been entirely expecting it, because Damen hadn't made his intentions obvious through his movements alone. It was no stranger not being able to see him like this than when Damen fucked him from behind with Laurent's face pressed into the pillows. Or that was what Laurent kept reminding himself. And for the most part that worked. He didn't lose track of the fact that it was Damen again. Especially not later, when Damen was worked up enough that his muffled grunts of pleasure devolved into spiels of what honestly sounded to Laurent like bad Akielon poetry, but which Laurent loved even so because it was just so quintessentially _Damen_.

Laurent's orgasm took him by surprise. He'd half-expected that he wouldn't get off at all tonight, or that if he did it would come later, after an entirely different kind of release. He certainly hadn't thought he'd climax even before Damen did. Apparently Damen enjoyed the sight of Laurent's lips parting below the blindfold, or of his cock pulsing, for he sped his pace, chasing a similar end. 

When Damen did come, there was a brief moment in which his slack weight pressing Laurent down again threatened to cause a repeat. But Laurent managed to keep his mind on Damen, forcing it not to wander in the direction it seemed to _want_ to go, even though Laurent had no conscious desire to ever think of that time again, given the choice.

Damen was quick to remove Laurent's bindings even though Laurent thought that he was calm enough at that point that he could have borne a few more minutes of it while Damen recovered. The blindfold came off first. The room was dark enough that Damen was little more than a shadowed silhouette backlit by the light from the slowly-dwindling fireplace, but Laurent wasn't tempted to compare him with the shadowy image in Laurent's imagination. He was just glad to be able to see him again. 

"You're alright?" Damen checked.

Was he? That had certainly been debatable at points. Even so, Laurent said, "I'm fine."

"We don't have to do that again," said Damen.

Of course they didn't _need_ to. It had been Laurent's choice from the start. But even without being able to see Damen's reactions, Laurent had been able to tell that Damen had specifically enjoyed it. And Damen would probably enjoy it a lot more in future, once Laurent got more of grip on himself. Laurent could control his own reactions, surely. That was something Laurent had always prided himself on. He could do better at it.

Laurent had always preferred to face his fears head-on, anyway.

"Next time," Laurent said, his tone firm enough that he knew Damen wouldn't bother trying to argue, "I think I'll leave my boots on."

Damen clearly tried not to react, but Laurent saw the widening of his eyes. 

Yes. Laurent knew the sorts of things Damen liked. And he was going to make sure Damen could have them.

And if he managed to also overcome a few things along the way himself, Laurent supposed that was just all the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the overly pretentious title, but I wanted to get across the particular brand of strength and bravery that can be built up from a traumatic past, and damned if I could think of a different way to phrase it in title form.


End file.
